


Dancing

by LJC



Series: Second Chances [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJC/pseuds/LJC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someday, Pike really is going to take her dancing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing

"Someday," Pike said against her skin as he pushed the straps of the blue silk dress off her shoulders with his thumbs, "I really am going to take you dancing."

She laughed, not because she didn't believe him, but because the second she'd opened the door and seen him in his crisp white tuxedo shirt leaving her 'fleet assigned guest quarters was the very last thing on her mind.

As good as he'd looked then, she liked him better now with the shirt open at the neck, the contrast of his tanned skin against the brilliant white shirt not just aesthetically pleasing, but sensual as it also revealed a scattering of black and grey curling hairs. Her fingers itched to unfasten another button and then another so she could feel them rough against her sensitive skin.

"Someday," she agreed as he kissed his way down her skin, following the path of the dark blue silk. "Though I have to warn you—I haven't been out dancing in a very long time."

"Suits me just fine. We'll just have to keep on practising. Lots of long, sweaty, aerobic workouts." His hands skimmed her sides before they came up to cup her breasts. "I'm sure they count as PT. We can tell everyone Boyce prescribed them."

He was only a few days out from the third nanotech treatment, and while not back to his old self just yet, he was able to stand and walk without the arm-crutches he'd been using for the last month, as the damage done by both the slug and the escape from the _Narada_ was repaired by the microscopic robots.

"Oh, I'm sure Phil's already—" whatever else she might have said was swallowed by a cry as the fabric slipped down around her waist and he took one rosy nipple into his mouth.

Her hands came up to grip his shoulders as he swilled his tongue around the sensitive nub while he gently kneaded her other breast with his fingers. His silver signet ring was cool against her skin, which only increased her arousal.

She had been the one to lead him from the front room to the bedroom once it became increasingly clear that not only were they not going to make their dinner reservations, if she had her way she might have to reschedule her morning briefings. And—if she were very lucky—his afternoon lunch with Barnett and Komack.

His blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled against her mouth, and she dipped her fingers inside the starched collar of his shirt, raking her blue-lacquered nails lightly over the top of his spine. He shivered at her touch, and pulled her hips against his so she could tell exactly what effect she was having on him.

Her fingers on the buttons of his crisp white shirt were sure and made up for the slight tremor in his as he pushed the silk lower until it pooled on the floor. He raised a brow when he saw the tiny scrap of lace she'd chosen to wear underneath.

"Never seen lingerie before? And here I thought you were a worldly ship's captain who'd seen all there was to see."

"I'm an admiral now, remember? And to tell you the truth, I never pictured you for the lace underwear type."

"To tell you the truth, I'm not. It's new."

"God, I can't tell you what knowing you picked that out just for me is doing to me right now."

"You don't have to tell me," she said with an impish smile as she slid her hand slowly and deliberately down the bulge in his black tuxedo trousers. "That was the intended effect, or so I'm led to believe."

He pulled her tight against him, and the contact of skin against skin made her dizzy with want as she slid her tongue inside his mouth to trace his teeth. He stripped off the cummerbund and it joined the growing pile of clothes on the carpet. 

She'd spent half the evening elaborately curling her thick fall of dark hair and twisting it up into an elegant style. It hadn't survived the first assault of his fingers and she was sure the pins were scattered all over the beige carpet. Now it hung in loose curls down her back, and when he laid her back on the bed, she had to sweep an arm behind her to keep it from getting caught beneath her shoulders.

As he settled between her open legs, one of his hands slipped from her breasts to wrap a single curl around his finger. He gave an experimental tug just as his teeth closed on her earlobe, and she gasped as he pressed her into the mattress, the head of his cock brushing her clit through the trousers and briefs. She rolled her hips, one leg coming up to wrap around his, the ball of her heel coming to rest inside his right knee before she began inching it up the back of his thigh. He groaned into her neck as she moved against him wantonly, her nails raking the bare skin of his back.

He pulled back just enough to unbutton the fly of the now wrinkled beyond repair trousers, and she laid her hands over his as he pushed them over his hips. He toed his dress shoes off, and they hit the floor with a _thunk_ that made her laugh—too low and throaty to be a giggle, and his answering chuckle vibrated through his chest as he kissed her again hungrily.

She kept her eyes open as he stripped off, following the trail of grey curling hair all the way to the erection which jutted out from its nest of still-dark curls. She lifted her hips so she could hook her fingers under the waistband of the lacy panties, but his hands on her hips stopped her.

"Not yet."

Her heart hammered crazily in her ears as he slid down her body, which tensed with anticipation. She cried out as he tongued her through the fabric, the friction of the stiff lace against her clit making her see stars.

His slid his hands down the outside of her thighs, and grasped her leg behind the knee to lift it up onto his shoulder. She fisted her hands in the comforter as the combination of his tongue and teeth with the silk and lace began to send her over the edge. She was moaning, fragments of words and his name escaping her lips as he finally slid the soaked fabric aside, and slid two fingers slowly upwards until they rest against her engorged clit. He slid up her body to kiss her—her taste still on his lips as he pressed down with those fingers, hard against her pubic bone, and then he slid them inside all the way to the knuckle. Her hand came down to rest atop his, guiding him, adjusting the angle until she threw her head back with a sharp cry.

The tension was almost painful as he teased her, moving slowly, tantalisingly. "Please," she said over and over between gasping breaths. He obeyed her panting commands, fingers moving in and out of her, faster and deeper until she shuddered against him, a long low keening moan pulled from her throat as she tightened around his fingers before she collapsed against the pillows, boneless, a rosy flush creeping up her breasts and neck.

She could feel him against her hip, hot and wet and she blindly reached out to wrap her fingers—wet with her own juices—around his shaft. Then it was his turn to gasp as she flicked her thumb over the head and pumped him slowly but firmly. His fingers slid out of her so he could peel the scrap of sodden fabric down over her thighs, and he tossed it to the floor as her leg came down from his shoulder to grip him around the waist and pull him flush against her.

They rolled until he was flat on his back, the pillows tumbling unheeded to the floor, and she was sprawled across him, knee on either side of his hips. She reached down to guide the head of his cock into her, and sank down onto him as his hands came to grip her hips almost painfully. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his mouth his open as she began to ride him. She leaned down so her breasts brushed his chest with each thrust, her dark hair falling around them like a curtain as his hands slid down to her ass as she moved. She kissed him, taking his bottom lip between her teeth, and his tongue slid inside her mouth, matching the rhythm she set with each movement of her hips. She could feel as he got closer to his own edge, his breathing more ragged, the snap of his hips wilder, the rhythm beginning to be lost to pleasure. Her own orgasm was mounting again, making her tighten around him as she rolled her hips.

On an unspoken signal, he flipped her onto her back and pushed into her again. His weight pressed her down into the mattress as his strokes grew faster and harder than before. She watched his face as he came, sweat sliding down his neck, leaving the taste of salt on her tongue when she licked his Adam's apple and swiped her tongue across the hollow of his throat. 

Instead of rolling away from her, he pulled her onto her side, reaching between them to lift her leg so her knee rested atop his. Still kissing her lazily as he softened inside her, he slide his hand down her belly—not as flat as it was when she first met him all those years ago, but still firm with muscle—and worked her clit until she came again, all the tension melting away. They dozed atop the comforter, his face buried in her hair until finally they crawled between the crisp, cool sheets.

She missed her morning briefings, and he was late for his meeting with Komack and Barnett. 

And no-one dared say a thing.


End file.
